Upon Awakening
All those mornings,
waking
it was your voice
I heard first --
gentle, sleepy, kind.
Last night I dreamed
of a lake
without a ripple,
conifers pointed skyward,
waterward,
until it was hard to tell
which image was real,
sky or water, just still,
a world with no clear rim,
a blend of colors and silence.
I wouldn't want to live there,
but I do --
Sue Scalf
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